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The Apology of Grasshopper

Dead grasshopper with fire ants.

Since Angelina presumed to question the wisdom of Aesop the other day, I’ve discovered that this Aesop isn’t so clever after all. Think about the Grasshopper and the Ant and this whole idea that you should have to be engaged in mindless drone work all summer or else be excluded from the banquet in the fall.

I don’t buy it. Could those ants really have done all that work without the fiddler playing for them, keep them going? I’ve worked in a factory myself, and I know it ain’t so.

Could their autumn feast be joyful without the fiddler? I’ve had Thanksgiving without football, and I know it ain’t the way.

I say the grasshopper should be awarded the highest seat at the head table, presented with the finest food, and offered the chance to play anything he wants whenever he wants throughout the feast. After all, he’s the only one who knows music.

Afterward, he should be feted and given an honorary professorship, where if there are any gifted and talented ants, they can come and learn how to fiddle around as well.

That’s the real moral of the story. At least, that’s what I say.

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